


Three To Get Ready, And Four To Go

by Poemsingreenink



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: AU, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Kid Fic, Pregnancy, connor and oliver show up at some point, mention of annalise x eve, with special guest stars wes gibbins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8386429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: Alternate universe drabbles set in a world where after Middleton University Michalea and Laurel get married, Michaela is pregnant and they’ve been living in New York where Michaela works with Eve.





	1. What A Pleasure To Unwrap

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking right now. Why even watch the show when Poems is staying so close to the plot lines?
> 
> This is a femslash AU that I play in for fun. They're all drabbles that I have it up on Tumblr, but I've had some requests to archive it here. I jump all over the place in the timeline, but all of them do take place in a world where after university Michaela and Laurel get married. Michaela gets preggers with their kid at some point, and she works for Eve. If you wanted you could start the whole thing off with "Bye, Bye Miss Havisham." It's not an official beginning, but it works. 
> 
> Have fun.

"No, we’re not doing that. Pick a different position.”

“Oh come on,” Laurel said. “What’s wrong with it?”

It wasn’t very often that Michaela saw Laurel pout. She’d bite her lips raw when she was nervous. Smirk after court cases ended in victory, and smile every time she saw Michaela walk through the door, but pouting just wasn’t something Laurel’s lips were naturally inclined to do. Which was actually a shame as the sight of Laurel’s lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit had whatever Michaela had been about to say sailing right out of her head.

“I think it’s sweet,” Laurel continued. She turned to share a look with their photographer. “This is a really popular save the date pose. Right, Elsie?”

If they hadn’t been in public Michaela would have given that lip a nip. One tiny bite to see if she could get Laurel’s eyes to darken, and her breath to catch.

“It’s this or the one that makes you look like you’re at senior prom,” Elsie said with a shrug. “I could just have you walk around and get some action shots. Have you hold hands while you cross that bridge back there. There are a bunch of new dandelions around, and I could snap you blowing the fluff off one of them together.”

“We are grown women with law degrees,” Michaela snapped. “We are not going to photograph ourselves blowing anything.”

Laurel snorted. Michaela very purposely ignored her.

Elise fiddled with the lenses of her camera. “Ladies, we are on a deadline. Please?”

Laurel stared at Michaela with very large, very sad looking eyes, and Michaela actually felt the moment her pride melted under the scrutiny.

“Fine. Forehead press it is.”

Laurel’s pout transformed into a much more familiar smirk. Elsie just looked relieved.

“Come on baby,” Laurel cooed in her best Bela Lugosi impression. “Look deep into my eyes.”

Michaela leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against Laurel’s. She put her hand on the other woman’s thigh and fought the urge to giggle.

“Lovely!” Elsie shouted. “Hold that for me.”

“You know,” Michaela murmured. “You’re right. This is the correct pose for our save the date magnets. How else will people know how we spend our evenings? What couple doesn’t spend their precious free time with their foreheads pressed together while gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes? What else could possibly fill our empty days?”

“I’m wearing the green thing.”

Michaela blinked. Laurel’s breath smelled like mint, and the snick, snack of Elsie’s camera filled the air.

Michaela’s eyes dropped to Laurel’s chest where the shining silver threads of her dress glinted in the early morning sunlight. The collar of Laurel’s dress was high enough that she couldn’t see any of her fiancé’s cleavage, but now that she knew the specifics of what was underneath it didn’t matter.

“You like the green thing,” Laurel added unnecessarily.

Of course Michaela liked the green thing. She’d picked out the green thing. The green thing had inspired her to choose green as one of their wedding colors, not that anyone was privy to that particular detail. Not even Laurel.

“Michaela! You’re not looking at Laurel!” Elsie shouted.

Michaela’s eyes flicked back to Laurel’s laughing blue ones. The problem with thinking about Laurel’s underwear was that is always led to thinking about Laurel’s skin. Specifically how much of it Michaela was allowed to touch once they were alone.

“I wanted you to have a surprise,” Laurel reaching out to entwine their fingers. “Because I know this wedding has been stressful, the move was hard and Elise wasn’t the photographer you wanted. But mostly, I just know how much you like pulling down the zipper of my dress.”

Michaela’s face flooded with warmth. Laurel wasn’t wrong. There was something about the changes of texture that Michaela liked. Something oddly erotic about watching the hard teeth of the zipper part while her thumb traced over the rougher weave of the dress fabric. Something exhilarating in feeling exactly when Laurel’s smooth skin gave way to the slick silk bra. Her time with Laurel had been full of discoveries.

“It’s nice to know you’re doing it on purpose,” Michaela said softly. “All this time I was worried you didn’t know how to unzip your own damn dresses.”

“When you do it tonight, are you going to wait until the dress is on the floor or are you going to slide your hands inside immediately?” Laurel asked. “Are you going to let me kiss you or are you just going to keep me in front of the mirror while you feel your way around?”

“Ladies if you’re talking you can’t smile! Please keep smiling,” Elsie asked.

Michaela slowly dragged her thumb up Laurel’s inner thigh. 

“It’s not that kind of photo shoot,” Laurel breathed.

Michaela nipped Laurel’s lower lip. “You started it.”


	2. Braxton-Hicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very pregnant Michaela freaks Eve out.

"What are you doing?”

Eve waited expectantly for Michaela to look away from her phone. She was staring at the swiftly shifting number counter on the screen with a keen eye. Her free hand was rested atop her very pregnant belly. 

It was the first time Eve had looked away from the police report she’d been combing through in over an hour. It was proving to be a dead end, there was a headache building behind her eyes, and if today was the day Michaela decided to play Minesweeper instead of working then today was going to mark the third time in Eve’s life that she’d yelled at a pregnant woman. 

“I’m timing my contractions,” Michaela said. 

Eve froze. “You’re what?”

“I’m almost done.”

Eve reached for her own phone, only to have her hand close around her stapler. 

There was a period of Eve’s life that had been full pregnant women. All through her twenties and thirties she’d attended baby shower after baby shower where she’d nodded along with discussions of surrogates, adoption agencies, and pregnancy weight. 

She’d made soothing noises when friends discussed how they’d make sure the child had ties to their culture, chewed over their guilt at going back to work, and measured out the pros and cons of daycare versus a nanny. It had all been a series of necessary evils (you didn’t have and stay friends with groups of women without a lot of them eventually having children), but the one thing Eve had hands down refused to attend was an honest to god live birth. She didn’t want that to change now. 

Eve lunged for her purse where she could see the outline of her phone pressing against the leather. “Okay, it’s fine. I’ll just call-”

“No one,” Michaela sighed, and then tossed her phone atop Eve’s desk. “You don’t need to call anyone. False alarm.”

“What?”

“They’re Braxton-Hicks contractions,” Michaela said with a shrug. She picked up the file she’d previously been highlighting her way through. “My doctor wants me to keep track of how long they each last. If I get more than five in an hour I have to go to the hospital.”

“How many have you had in this hour?” Eve asked, suspiciously glancing at Michaela’s belly.

“Three. Don’t worry this has been happening all month.”

“Right. Have you considered bed rest?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fully paid bed rest.”

“I’m not going to give birth in your office. Laurel would have a heart attack.”

“Offer’s on table. Don’t say I never offered. In fact, let’s record this conversation just in case we ever need to revisit it.”

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is absolutely no cannon evidence to support this, but I just think Michaela would be a super chill pregnant woman (with the cutest maternity clothes). And what’s hilarious is that in my head Laurel is also incredibly relaxed about Michaela’s pregnancy. Which means someone is going to have to be the one to freak out.
> 
> Eve is going to be that person right up until she packs a bag, and shows up on Annalise’s door saying “I’m staying here until the baby is born. It’s gotten crazy.” Annalise will promptly freak out about this


	3. Wine With Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michaela and Connor snark via text. Laurel’s texts are way less fun.

_Guess what we’re eating right now?_

A pictures of Connor with a sushi roll held delicately between two chop sticks appeared on Michaela’s phone.

_You’re an ass_ , she texted back and flopped against the mountain of pillows Laurel’d set up for her on their bed. She missed sushi. And wine. Especially wine. When this was all over she was having wine with _everything_

Her phone chirped again.

_Why yes, I would like to try the yellow-tailed sashimi. On the house? No, we simply couldn’t._

_You’re buying me dinner when this is over._

_Who are u kidding?_ Connor texted back. _You’re having a baby. You won’t see the inside for a restaurant for years._

Michaela snorted. Laurel came in and sat at the end of the bed. She was staring at her phone, and biting her lower lip which meant she was texting with her mother.

“My mother wants to visit,” Laurel said. “I’m using your bed rest as an excuse to keep her away.”

“Good,” Michaela said. “Just the sound of her voice will probably scare our daughter into staying in me for another year. That’s unacceptable, Laurel. This has been educational, but I’m never doing it again.”

_Give Oliver your phone,_ Michaela texted. _I want to talk to the good one._

_Who do you think took the picture?_

“Oh fuck.”

Michaela hit send on her _Betrayed at every turn_ text, and looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

A sharp series of knocks came from the front door, and a sharp, angry smile Michaela usually only saw at Christmas was creeping across Laurel’s face.

Michaela scrutinized their bedsheets. They weren’t the best of quality, but they’d both learned to tie some quality knots in the past few years. With enough blankets they could probably scale down the side of the building.

“She wasn’t asking me for a visit,” Laurel hissed. “She was informing me of a visit.”

Michaela looked longingly toward the window, then sighed and folders her hands atop her bulging stomach.

“You better just answer. You know she knows we’re home. She can smell fear.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid,” Laurel said darkly. “But someone’s about to be.”

“That’s great baby.” Michaela opened a new text screen. Her fingers tapped quickly across the keypad as Laurel marched to the door. “I believe in you. Go get her.”

_To Eve:_

_SOS. Please come over!_

Eve would help. Eve was scared of breathing on Michaela incorrectly these days. There was no way she’d make her interact with the woman on the other side of that door.

Down the hall Laurel backed away from the peephole, threw back her shoulders, and started unlocking the door.

_To Eve:_

_P.S. Bring Chinese food._


	4. Three To Get Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michaela’s water breaks.

Laurel was eating a burrito when it happened;  an Ana Ole, 600 calorie, steak, cheese and bean burrito that took 1 minute and 30 seconds to defrost in the microwave. Eve honestly wasn’t sure what to be more offended by. That fact Laurel fucking Castillo was living in New York City, surrounded by culinary delights and still choosing to eat a processed burrito or that despite all of her careful planning she was still stuck right in the middle of Michaela’s pregnancy shenanigans. 

“My water broke,” Michaela called from the other room, and Eve was pretty sure her heart, skipped, fell and skimmed both ventricles. 

“Huh.” Laurel tossed the still hot processed meal from one hand to another causing a thin strand of yellow cheese to span the distance.  “You okay?”

Eve stood up. She knew how this next part went.  Dick Van Dyke slept in his clothes for Laura Petrie. Ricky Ricardo had a pre-practiced plan for Lucy, and Bette was there to hold Tina’s hand even though they still weren’t technically back together yet. What was absolutely perfect was not a one of those shows featured a lesbian boss/friend named Eve so she was cleared to run for it.

“I’m going to shave my legs before we go.” Michaela called from the other room.

“Great. I’ll be on the balcony. Get me when you’re ready.”

Laurel pried their sticking balcony door open, and a rush of cold air filled the apartment.

Eve sat back down. Maybe she should stay. Neither Michaela nor Laurel seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. It was like they’d never see any of the other 305 shows where lesbians got pregnant and gave birth.

Eve stood back up. She looked longingly toward the front door. This was her own fault. She should have dropped off the files for the Shoemaker Case, turned down the offer of a drink and run. Because no matter what her grandfather’d spat at her once upon a time in a state no longer worth visiting, God loved Eve. There was no other reason why Michaela-I’m-coming-into-the-office-until-I-pop-Castillo-Pratt would actually agree to go on bed rest for the last two months of her pregnancy.

It had been perfect. Michaela not only worked well from an incline position, but she’d removed the possibility of Eve getting trapped in an elevator with her when the big moment arrived.  

Another blast of cold wind sped into the apartment. It engulfed Eve and made her shiver.

“Sorry to abandon you, Eve” Laurel called. She took another bite of her lunch and a line of sauce dribbled down her chin. “We’ve mostly gotten past the smell of these making her sick, but I don’t want to chance it.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled in Eve’s chest, but she popped it before any could escape.

“Shouldn’t you be calling a cab?” Eve asked, calmly, serenely, gently.

Laurel shook her head. “I know this sounds crazy, but it’ll take less time on the subway.”

A voice that sounded suspiciously like her older brother filled Eve’s head. 

_Evie, you are older, wiser and saner than they are. Gently guide them in a different direction._

“You want to get trapped underground surrounded by who the hell even knows while Michaela gives birth on a subway floor! What the hell, Laurel?”

Laurel blinked her giant, blue eyes and Eve very nicely shoved another set of feelings off a bridge. Not appropriate. Not appropriate at all.

“The traffic will be crazy right now,” Laurel said. “You’ve lived here longer than we have. You know that. Besides, this way Wes can jump on the same train and we might all get there together.”

Because she was a professional, Eve did not pick up and throw the beer bottle she’d been drinking out of against the wall.

“Fine,” she said, reaching for her purse. “Can I stand on the balcony with you?”

“Yes, but you can’t smoke.”

“Why?”

“Our neighbors will complain, and they never really forgave us for the cigar phase Michaela and I had when we first moved here.”

“You had a cigar phase?”

Laurel waved the words away with her burrito. “Only lasted a week. You should really stop smoking, Eve. Nobody cool or powerful smokes anymore.”

“Okay, you know what. You’re on your own.  Call me when you’re holding a baby.”

“Hopefully that will be relatively soon,” Michaela said as she joined them from the other room. She had a small overnight bag in her hands.

Laurel stepped fully onto the balcony holding the burrito as far out as she could. A gust of wind grabbed all of her long dark hair, and pulled it away from her face. She looked from the rest of her burrito to Michaela’s bag, and narrowed her eyes. Before she could do something ridiculous like shove the rest of it into her mouth, Eve crossed the room and took Michaela’s bag.

“I will walk you to the elevator. I will put you in the elevator, but then I am taking the stairs.”

“We’re on the 35th floor.”

“I don’t care. I’ve already risked too much by coming here.”

“Does Annalise know how strange you are?”

“Yes. Yes, she does.”


	5. Phone Calls From The Great Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-birth Eve and Annalise discuss Laurel and Michaela. They also have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I could title this AU “Eve Rothlow, Reluctant Lesbian Mentor” but it feels like too much of a mouthful.

Their third time together, squished on Eve’s dorm room bed and fumbling through an experience that wasn’t new, but also wasn’t polished Annalise had given Eve a very clear instruction.

“Higher! Go higher. There’s this spot I like…if you just go a little-. _Yes”_

The spot in question was located just where Annalise’s right thigh ended, and her hip began. It wasn’t a spot that Eve’s body shared though they’d given it a shot one night, but differences were always part of the fun that came with pleasuring another person and Annalise had found all of Eve’s sensitive bits eventually.

Eve’s mouth had sucked at that spot until bruises appeared. She’d nipped it while Annalise squirmed, smiled and laughed because the spot was just a tiny bit ticklish. She’d made it her first stop before traveling further inside, and kissed it quickly to signal an end to their nighttime fun. Eve Rothlow would be dead in the cold, cold ground before she’d ever admit that it wasn’t the most perfect spot in the entire universe, and located on one of the most amazing women in the entire world.

She was actually paying that spot a visit one night when her phone rang.

Annalise was sprawled across Eve’s bed. Hands digging into the sheets as she moaned. From the corner of her eye Eve could see the muscles in Annalise’s leg jump as her toes curled and flexed. She gave the most perfect spot in the world a nip before diving in to trace her tongue down the other woman’s clit. That was when it happened.

_Dale a tu Cuervo Algeria Macarena_   
  


“You. Hate. This. Song,” Annalise gasped.

_Que tu Cuervo Es pa'darle alegria Costa buena_

Eve replaced her warm wet mouth with her warm wet fingers.  
  
 _Dale a tu Cuervo Algeria Macarena_

“If you can still talk I’m doing this wrong,” Eve panted.

_Hey Macarena!_

Eve’s phone went dancing across her nightstand as sweat ran between her breasts. Annalise arched, went stiff and then melted under Eve’s hand as she came.

The phone stopped vibrating, and chirped happily indicating a message had been left.

Eve crawled up the length of the bed, and let Annalise pull her into her arms.

“You going to see who it was,” Annalise asked, her thumb running over Eve’s brow, removing the sweat before it could sting Eve’s eyes.

“That song means it was either Laurel or Michaela.”

Annalise snorted. “What did they do to deserve that ring tone?”

“They just keep calling! They are two smart, competent young women. They were the epitome of calm during a stressful pregnancy, but the minute they had an actual child they both went batty!”

“And they’re calling you for what?”

Eve buried her face in Annalise’s neck. “I don’t know! They don’t ask me anything! Michaela just rants about pre-school options and incompetent nannies, and how she’ll never make partner by the time she’s thirty. Laurel just cries!”

“ _Ms Castillo_ cries? She didn’t even give birth.”

Even snorted. “I don’t know what to say to her. I made my choices about children. I like my choices, but that leaves me with no advice about any sort of of baby related situation.”

Eve hooked the discarded blanket at the edge of the bed with her big toe and dragged it up the bed. The sweat was starting to cool leaving her chilled. “They both took maternity leave at the same time. I think they’re just starved for conversation with another adult that doesn’t involve whether or not Estella is smiling or if it’s just gas.”

Annalise smiled wickedly at her. “You’re their lesbian mentor. That’s so sweet.”

“No. No, I am not. I refuse the title. You were their professor. You be their lesbian mentor.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

“Neither are they! It’s perfect.”

Eve’s phone chirped again, and she buried her face into Annalise’s neck. “Can you throw that out the window for me, baby? Please?”

Annalise curled closer, running her hand up and down Eve’s side. “Who’s the father? Mr. Walsh?”

“Nah. I can’t remember if he turned down the offer or if they never asked, but it’s not him. Thank god. I couldn’t handle a baby who inherits that weird smile-smirk thing he does. What even is that?”

“Sperm donor then.”

Eve laughed. “Actually. You’re never going to believe this, but it’s Wes Gibbons.”

Next to her Annalise went very, very still.


	6. Talking Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes pays a visit to the new moms and his daughter.

Michaela woke up with a crick in her neck, and her left arm completely numb. She’d drooled on herself a little bit, and since one arm was trapped against the back of the couch and her other arm other was under Laurel she had to wipe it off on her shoulder.

Laurel was curled into her side, a warm weight that was sure to be very uncomfortable very soon, but for now felt wonderful.

“Please tell me I was asleep for hours,” Michaela mumbled.

“Shh,” Laurel responded. “Watch.”

Michaela lifted her head, and squinted. “Did she finally start crying?”

Their daughter was a quiet baby, and it was really starting to freak Michaela out. No matter what the doctor said, no matter how many times Eve used finger quotes around the word “problem” or how many times Laurel checked that Estella was still breathing in the middle of the night Michaela couldn’t get comfortable with how silent she was. Babies were supposed to cry. It was a rule, a warning, a way to bond with other new parents. What the hell did it mean that she wasn’t doing it? What kind of teenager could they expect if Estella was already bucking the basic guidelines for infants?

“You’re missing it,” Laurel whispered.

“The crying?” Michaela asked hopefully.

Wes came out of the kitchen with Estella in his arms. He started walking a slow circle around the living room, and stopped in front of a wall covered in framed photographs. He shifted her a little in his arms.

“Estella,” Wes cooed softly. “Estella, these are picture frames. Do you see them? Picture frames hold pictures. Do you see the picture? That one is Asher. Have you met Asher?”

Michaela heard Laurel snort. No, Estella hadn’t met Asher yet, but there was a a giant stuffed giraffe in her room wearing a green ribbon that had showed up last week with a tag that read: “From Uncle A-Man!” God help them. There was probably a visit coming. 

Wes paused as though giving her time to fully appreciate what he was introducing her to, and then moved on.

“This is a book shelf, and these are all your moms’ books. They’re just like the books I brought you, but so much more boring.”

Michaela squirmed, trying to dislodge Laurel so she could stand

“Okay, what the hell is happening? Is he having a stroke?”

Laurel wrapped both of her arms around Michaela, and hugged her into submission. “Leave him. They’re fine. He’s been introducing her to all the things in the apartment for the last fifteen minutes. You missed the kitchen.”

“Your moms have a copy of _50 Shades of Grey_. Which I am not going to judge.”

“Okay, this is-”

“Sweet,” Laurel finished firmly. “It’s sweet. He wants to talk to her. It doesn’t matter what he says.”

Michaela relaxed, and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “He couldn’t just sit and hold her?”

“This is a television. Unless something changes in the next couple of years you’ll love this thing.”

“He does have a nice voice,” Michaela agreed.

Laurel rested her head atop Michaela’s shoulder. “Yeah.”


	7. It’ll Last Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel and Michaela’s daughter meets her godparents. She immediately chooses a favorite.

Laurel huffed as she scrolled through the provided filters on her newest photo app. She spared a few seconds to mourn her old Instagram account, still floating abandoned and unchecked in echoing emptiness of cyberspace, and wondered why everyone couldn’t have just stuck with that instead of inventing a brand new way of posting cat photos. That thought more than the few gray hairs she’d plucked this morning made her feel old.

Three sharp claps filled the air, and Laurel looked up to see that Eve was still beaming with pure, unadulterated joy.

“She hates him,” Eve whispered. “She just hates him!”

Laurel went back to her photo. She chose a filter named _noir,_ and posted the photo of Eve and Michaela looking incandescent with happiness to what the app was calling her “ _carousel”_ (Seriously, what?)

“She’s crying,” Michaela breathed, her eyes bright with happiness. “She’s actually crying! I knew she could do it.”

Laurel made a mental note to suggest Michaela take a nap when their guests were gone. She closed out the app, flipped her phone back to the camera function and turned to take a few photos of what was happening in the living room.

Connor held a wailing Estella in his arms. Wes was with him, hands hovering nervously near Connor’s elbow as though he was worried the other man was going to forget he was holding a baby and try and run a hand through his hair.

The photo she got was nice enough to not need a filter, and Laurel posted it right away.

“She’s not hungry,” Wes said. “And she doesn’t need to be changed. I don’t know why she’s crying. She never cries!”

Oliver stood by the window looking perplexed. “She must not like strangers.“

"She did fine with Asher,” Eve said, her lips curling into a smirk.

Laurel rolled her eyes. Asking Connor to be their daughter’s godfather and Eve to be her godmother had seemed like a much nicer idea when Connor was 789 miles away in Chicago, and living in the house that gay divorce built. She wondered if it was too late to ask Frank. Frank loved kids. He’d be willing to visit, take her to the park, and even show her how to dispose of the occasional dead body.

Laurel set put her phone down on the counter, and dug her fists into her eyes. Maybe she was the one who needed a nap. Abandoning her phone and the strange new app she went to Michaela and pressed her face into the other woman’s shoulder. Michaela blew her nose and then clumsily patted Laurel on the head.

The _click-clack_ of Eve’s heels across their wood floor made Laurel wince (And when had she started worrying about things like _that_?). The noise didn’t stop until Eve was planted right in front of Connor where she stretched her arms out expectantly.

“Gimme.”

Connor narrowed his eyes, and then jerked his chin up as one of Estella’s small fists came dangerously close to smacking him. He gently passed the baby over.

The second Estella was settled in Eve’s arms the wailing stopped.

“Awww, “ Eve cooed. “Who loves Aunt Evie? Who’s getting a huge college fund? Who’s a future supreme court justice?”

“It’s okay. We all have bad days,” Connor said.

Eve shrugged. “Or she just doesn’t like you.”

Connor’s smile was sharp and bright, and full of unsaid promises. “Guess we’ll see.”

Laurel closed her eyes, and wished desperately for her bed.


End file.
